Dark Tower
by NebulaSpider
Summary: DG has tried to leave the OZ behind her, but discovers that running away is never as easy or as simple as it sounds.
1. The Report

**Author:** NebulaSpider

**Rating:** M, eventually

* * *

**Title:** Dark Tower

**Summary:** DG has tried to leave the OZ behind her, but discovers that running away is never as easy or as simple as it sounds.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sci-Fi's reproduction of Tin Man nor any of L. Frank Baum's original characters. I am certainly making no money from this fiction.

* * *

The door was just ahead of him in the rough stone hallway, light and warmth spilling out along with the laughter of his comrades. Taking a deep breath, Alain closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew that for him, the welcome was only illusion tonight. His news was not good and might even end his life if He was not in a benevolent mood tonight. Very gently, he thumbed the ring on his forefinger for a memory of strength then straightened up and announced himself at the open door.

"Lord," he said, kneeling instantly. His form was perfect and the salute of fist against chest smooth and professional. Almost immediately, his liege looked over, the fierce, feral gleam of His eyes utterly unnerving. He was not in a good mood after all, and the only outcome he could hope for was a quick, relatively painless death. There was no command to rise, and Alain swallowed against the knowledge that he didn't really want to die after all. _Mikkel_, he thought, numbly, unexpectedly. _My brother, you were right_.

"Lord, I bring bad news," he tried again, his gaze unwaveringly on the slate floor. He didn't dare look up, not with the instant cold silence that statement brought. "I have found the girl, Lord. She is not in the Outer Zone, not even the Realm of the Unwanted, nor in any neighboring lands." He stopped a moment and swallowed again as casually as he could manage with those eyes boring into the back of his neck. "They have sent her, or she has returned on her own, to the Other Side."

He gently thumbed his ring again, hidden against his chest and remembered in the middle of the cold, deadly silence. Once there were two brothers with two different hearts and two different minds but only one dream. That dream was of honor and of service to the OZ. _'We will make a better place,'_ he remembered saying so solemnly to his younger brother, Mikkel. '_Together,'_ Mikkel had responded equally solemnly. Then they would clasp their hands together in front of them, palm to palm, his right to his brother's left. At that point the spell of their seriousness would be broken in their laughter, but the dream always stayed. Many warm afternoons in their family's orchard were spent in the highest branches of the highest trees, making plans. Many cold winter nights were spent in front of the fire holding their dream close and assuring each other it was within reach.

"Do you know where in the Other Side she is?" his Lord's cruel, capricious voice purred. There was no disappointment or anger, not yet. "It is a very large place, after all, even larger than the OZ if the tales I hear are correct."

His voice was dangerous, but then, Alain already knew what he faced. Against his will, that danger resonated deeply with the only danger that really mattered – his memory. His father's eyes, his brother's eyes staring at him in wounded accusation. His mother's eyes staring at him in hurt disbelief. And Inya's eyes...no, he could not think of his sister. Not now, not and keep his wits about him. _Would it be so bad?_ The thought came without warning. _Would it be so bad to die? To join my family again and to make amends – surely they would forgive me in death although they never did in life._

With a start, Alain yanked his thoughts to the here and now. If he weren't careful and alert he surely would die and it would not be pleasant. Frantically, he sorted through his thoughts for his Lord's last statement. Ah, there. He had it.

"Yes, Lord, of course. I have everything prepared for you in my report, along with a map of that portion of the Other Side. I have done everything I could think of to finally realize our goals." His Lord extended His hand and Alain dropped his salute to reach for his report. "In addition, I have included the names and locations of the two friends closest to the girl."

Everyone in the room knew who 'the girl' was, of course, although her name was never mentioned. She was Princess Dorothy Gale, or DG as she seemed to prefer to be called, and she had almost single-handedly ended the Witch's reign within Azkadellia, the older princess. The girl also almost destroyed the entire OZ by allowing the royal family to continue ruling unchecked. Almost, he bared his teeth before remembering where he was and who he was with. Although his Lord understood of all people…something not even his family could lay claim to. With that familiar, comforting thought, Alain was able to push the unwelcome thoughts of his past away.

Again the cold voice of the Lord broke into his thoughts, scattering them for good this time. "You mentioned bad news, soldier. So far, you have only mentioned the good news. I think now might be an appropriate time to mention the bad news before I forget. Rise."

Slowly, Alain dropped his kneeling pose and stood straight, looking into His eyes as He has always allowed during such times. "Lord, you forget nothing. I know where the girl is. I know how best to get at her and when once in her presence. However, I know of no way to get at her. The witch killed herself rather than help us."

Why must his memories betray his wishes every time? He didn't want to remember her hopeless eyes, the triumphant smile, the screams of agony as if she was being eaten alive by the substance she smeared on her forearm. He didn't want to remember the smell. Most of all, he didn't want to remember her last words.

"Her last words were of support for the House of Gayle," and condemnation of him and his dream. "She is quite definitively gone, Lord. I have searched and searched, but there is only one other person with both the knowledge and strength to create a travel storm useful enough for our purposes." Alain didn't bother to name Azkadellia – again, everyone in the room knew exactly who he was referring to.

After he finished his report, there was a long, long silence. Alain continued to look proudly at his Lord. His uncertain temper could not be judged from His face; it was completely smooth and emotionless. Eventually, his Lord nodded sharply and waved a hand to release him from standing at attention. "You are loyal, soldier, and honest. I respect those traits. I reward only cowards, betrayers and idiots with death. So far, you are none of those. Go rest, with my approval, and know I value your work. You will report to me in two days, that I may give you further orders." That being said, He turned back to his map and everyone else in the room resumed their interrupted conversations. Nearly dizzy with confusion, grateful to be leaving with his life, Alain knelt formally a second time. Later that evening, curled up in his own bunk, he couldn't explain the two tears that dropped onto his golden ring on the right forefinger or the heavy sense of grief that weighed down on his chest. 

_Mikkel. Brother._ The night offered no comfort.


	2. At the Club

**Author:** NebulaSpider

**Rating:** M, eventually

* * *

**Title:** Dark Tower

**Summary:** DG has tried to leave the OZ behind her, but discovers that running away is never as easy or as simple as it sounds.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sci-Fi's reproduction of Tin Man nor any of L. Frank Baum's original characters. I am certainly making no money from this fiction.

* * *

Dark, edgy music poured through the lower floor of the club. DG couldn't quite catch the lyrics over the noise of what seemed like hundreds of people talking to each other, but it seemed sensual and gothic. It was the perfect complement to the dark gray and black upholstery and crystals throwing prisms of rainbow light dancing everywhere. Everyone loved the latest club – _be honest DG, the only club_ – in the small Kansas town. The Cool, the Preps, the Thugs, the Goths, the Nerds…everyone came to The Dark Tower and everyone left each other alone. Like the décor, it was a fine balance and one the management was great at maintaining.

A brief pause in the music playing immediately in the room allowed the hard bass-heavy beat of the dance floor upstairs to drift down. "Come on, DG!" one of her friends yelled into her ear. "Let's go dance!"

DG looked around at the huge crowd of people streaming up and down the stairs and hid a grimace by downing her drink. She didn't even realize so many people lived in the area. "I think I'd rather stay here, Sarah," she said. Sarah shrugged and looked at her with a blank look, indicating that she hadn't heard. DG sighed, gave a shrug of her own and allowed Sarah to catch her hand to drag her upstairs. She didn't really want to be here to begin with, but did Sarah have to make her dance, too? Maybe she could escape after a song or two.

Sarah stopped on the way in the double doors at the top of the stairs to whisper something to the big, burly bouncer lounging casually against the wall nearby. Not much like the Royal Guard, her traitorous thoughts whispered to her, or even like the Resistance. _No._ No, no, no, no, no. She was not going to do this tonight. She was not going to remember. That was why she had allowed Sarah to bring her out for her birthday to begin with – so she could forget, for a few hours, for a night, why she was here to begin with.

Sarah finished with the bouncer and rushed back over to DG with a brilliant smile lighting up her entire face. Her rich brown hair framed her pixie-like features in soft curls and her green eyes reflected her happiness effortlessly. Everyone liked Sarah and everyone was attracted by her indomitable cheerfulness. Sarah joyfully liked everyone back, further drawing everyone to her. Almost against her will, DG grinned back. "Get a number?" she teased.

Sarah laughed and waved a piece of paper. "I dressed for it, you know." This, in fact, was absolutely true. She was stunning in a short black skirt that flared way too much for modesty and a low cut, cherry red top with black embroidery. "We're supposed to be having a contest here, Deeg. You haven't even tried yet and I have two already!" Sarah glanced down the stairs behind them to the other two girls that had come to the club as well. "Wanna hazard a guess how many Deanna has yet?"

DG smirked. "S'okay," she said complacently. "If she tries to shove it in my face, I'll just remind her that I always won the cigarette contest in high school."

"Hey!" Deanna pouted, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "We were in high school. We weren't supposed to smoke. How was I supposed to know who to ask and who not to?"

The smirk deepened. "You mean you just didn't want people to think you smoked. Although I'm not sure how this is any different."

Deanna dropped the pout and laughed along with the other three girls. "Yes, well, I was a little goody two shoes then. I can admit it. Now I can admit it's just a game. Since I'm not planning on actually sleeping with any of these people and I will never see most of them again, what does it hurt to smile and ask for their number? They can think whatever they like." She tossed her brown hair, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and humor. "Besides, I have something like 8 contests of me being whipped like a dog to make up for."

"Well, that's true," DG ducked a half-hearted swat from Deanna, "but it's not like I'm as far behind tonight as you all seem to think." DG smiled very innocently and produced her own two pieces of crumpled up paper. Laughing at their outraged exclamations, she tucked them back into her pocket and herded them all toward the dance floor. Just before it got too loud for anyone to hear her, she tossed a final sally over her shoulder. "You don't have to see me trying for guys to see through to my natural charming personality."

It may have been too loud for a verbal retort, but that didn't stop Sarah and Deanna both from raising an eyebrow and eyeing her up and down. DG was wearing black leather pants and a lacy tank top split down the midriff to show the gleaming jewel in her naval. The lace was dyed a swirling blue green that brought out her eyes and only barely concealed her cleavage. With her hair up and gold jewelry, DG was sure to get plenty of attention. The message was loud and clear – charming personality their asses.

Giggling helplessly at the indignant expressions on her friends' faces, she turned to weave her way through the crowd. She had just spotted a good spot to dance when the song playing drew to a close. No new song followed immediately and everyone stopped dancing, looking confused.

The DJ spoke up. "Ladies and gents, The Dark Tower just received word of a special once-a-year event." With no warning, a bright white spotlight flared to life and highlighted DG and her group. "Today is DG's 22nd birthday and she's too shy to celebrate so maybe you can all give her a helping hand tonight." Cheers and catcalls rose up from the floor, followed by yells for more music. "You got it folks – happy birthday, DG!" There was more cheering and everyone nearby shouted a happy birthday or gave a quick pat or a thumbs up.

"You didn't," breathed DG in shock.

"Oh, we did," Sarah said. "You haven't really been out in like a year, DG. You needed to get out and Deanna and I really wanted to make this special for you. We want you to have fun – you didn't let us celebrate your 21st birthday."

Well, no, of course she hadn't. Last year, she had been way too torn between her original life on the farm, her correct life in the OZ and her desired life back here in Kansas to want to celebrate anything. Sarah and Deanna had never really forgiven her and she was only just now starting to feel the payback.

"Happy Birthday, DG!" Deanna cried happily, flinging her arms around her in a group hug along with Sarah. Emily, Deanna's cousin, hung back, but still smiled cheerfully at them. DG returned the hug until the next heavy beat started pounding out and allowed herself to be dragged onto the dance floor. Her body moved almost unconsciously to the music and she started to relax. Maybe this had been a great idea after all. Maybe tonight, she would be able to let go and forget. Just for tonight. _Please, God, even just for tonight._


	3. Travel Storm

Author: NebulaSpider

Rating: M, eventually

* * *

Title: Dark Tower

Summary: DG has tried to leave the OZ behind her, but discovers that running away is never as easy or as simple as it sounds.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sci-Fi's reproduction of Tin Man nor any of L. Frank Baum's original characters. I am certainly making no money from this fiction.

* * *

A/N: I should probably mention that I have never read any of Baum's books about Oz, so every single one of ideas are either based off of the original movie, the Sci-Fi mini-series produced this spring, or my own imagination. For you hard-core Oz book fans, I'm sorry, but hopefully you enjoy this story anyway.

Occasionally, Alain wondered what had possessed the first Gale family members to decide on twisters as an instantaneous travel device. There was absolutely nothing smart about the idea. Twisters were enormous, violent, and completely unpredictable. They were destructive. All of that was bad enough, but the most crucial factor against their use was the fact that they were not really controllable, even by magic. Hesitate for one or two seconds – and who wouldn't hesitate to jump into the maw of an angry storm, anyway? – and you could end up miles and miles from your intended destination.

Alain grimaced and ducked to avoid a board sailing in his direction. "And last but not least…" _…even in the OZ travel storms are destructive_. He finished his thought in silence as his team members glanced his way, curiosity in their eyes. The last thing he needed tonight was for them to think he was going crazy. His actions had been erratic enough as it was. _How can you do such terrible things, Alain?_ Inya's voice rang in his thoughts until he pushed her aside, as he did nearly every night now.

He sighed to himself as he watched the angry, swirling winds come closer to their position on the bluff. The occasional flash of jagged lightning revealed a few dilapidated huts and homesteads slowly coming apart in its midst. In the days of old, the ruling house tried to keep their travel storms to uninhabited areas, but anymore, there weren't really very many such areas. No unoccupied areas, no prosperous areas, no whole and untouched areas. In short, there was no peace. "I miss the OZ," he said softly.

"Captain?" It was his second in command.

He shook his head. "It was nothing important, Burke. Just thinking out loud – my age must be really getting to me, now." Everyone chuckled a bit, as they were meant to. He was barely in his mid-twenties and never forgot a single thing. He had successfully diverted them, but now it was time to distract them completely and remind them what they were about. "Remember, troops, we have to be on the ball about this. As soon as the travel storm approaches the bluff, be prepared to jump. A flash of red light will be our cue to jump. You see that light, and you jump like He was breathing down your neck, you hear me?"

Almost to a man, everyone straightened up like they were on parade. "Aye, aye, sir!" they shouted together. Mention of Him was all anyone ever needed to control a person. Alain didn't like to use it often, because he did not believe in controlling his command through fear. In this case, he felt it was warranted. After all, the longer that travel storm was in existence, the more innocent homes and wildlife were injured.

"Here it comes, boys!" he screamed. The twister came closer and closer to the sheer bluff they were all standing on. Lightning flickered almost continuously, lending a surreal, eerie view of everything. Soon, all Alain could hear was the sick roaring of what seemed to be death itself. He stared at the vision before him in terrified awe. The twister itself was pitch black. Its debris was actually a lighter shade, barely visible as it swirled around and around its center. Closer it came, pelting the men with small pebbles and even the occasional large board, although the magic that created it prevented anything fatal from hitting anyone.

"Oh, my Lord," someone moaned near him. The sheer volume of the travel storm made it impossible to tell who it was, but the terror of the phrase carried easily even over the noise. Alain remembered dimly that none of the men with him had ever traveled this way before. Looking into the heart of the storm, it was almost impossible to remember that he had traveled this way once before.

The twister writhed its way closer and closer. It was almost upon them. Surely He hadn't forgotten to signal them? As soon as he thought that, a brilliant red light bathed them all for a heartbeat. "Brace yourselves!" he roared into the storm and without a second thought launched himself off the bluff to be caught up by the spinning, swirling winds. Half in terror and half in wonder, Alain let himself be carried away into the darkness reaching out to embrace him.

Had he thought he had nightmares before in his life? Journey by travel storm was a lesson in what a nightmare was. The wind buffeted him constantly and swirled him around until he was so dizzy he lost his orientation. Was he up? Was he down? Despite his best efforts to keep his eyes closed against the rising nausea, he caught glimpses of things in the storm with him. There was a half of a farm house, jagged edges seeming to pass within a hair of his eyes. There was a rusted bit of machinery and then, impossibly, there was a cow. Alain fought the urge to laugh hysterically. A cow in a tornado? _You have to be kidding me_. How much of a stereotype was that? A single frantic moo made it to his ears over the constant roar and then faded as it was whipped away and out. Alain winced, wondering where it was deposited and whether it lived.

As suddenly as the cow, he found himself flung out into thin air. As soon as there was no wind to hold him up, he fell to the ground tumbling over and over until he sprawled to a halt face down in the earth. With a low, heartfelt moan, Alain brought his arms up to his head and rolled over onto his back. "I hate travel storms. Never again," he swore.

"Well then, Captain, you'd better resign yourself to a long, long stay on the Other Side," Burke said from close by. He sounded as bad as Alain, who let out another pained moan at hearing this truth. Burke ignored him mercilessly and raised his voice for everyone else to hear. "Sound off! Burke!" he called his own name. One by one, each of their small team voiced his or her name to be counted off.

"Justin!" The man was their strong arm, a huge man capable of taking on anything their regiment ever brought to bear against him.

"Kirsten!" The woman was small and petite, but death with anything and everything. She was as silent as a whisper and as unassuming as the earth they all lay on. Everyone liked Kirsten, but few really trusted her. She did not let people close to her and who could really trust someone who would share nothing in return?

"Redmond!" He didn't have a first name that anyone knew of. He was just Redmond, and if something mechanical could be fixed, he was your man. He could also out-drink anyone in their regiment without even trying very hard.

"Haslo!" Haslo was something of a mystery, but no one could doubt his skill in healing people. Technically, Haslo did not exist. All regiment or squad personnel were supposed to be listed with the Lord's adjutants along with their backgrounds. Haslo had no registry with the Lord and few people even in Alain's regiment knew he existed. Whenever Alain led a mission, he made sure Haslo was included, even though it meant shading the truth with the Lord, which was never a wise thing to do.

"Alain!" he finally said, after everyone else had called off. "Okay everyone, let's just lay here for a few minutes. This old man needs his rest after such an exciting trip." There was more laughter, but this had a relieved edge to it and he was glad to give everyone a chance to rest a bit before getting up.

"Damned unsettling," Kirsten said unsteadily. "Is this normal, Captain?"

"Sadly," he said. "Just wait until the return journey. It gets even worse. You would think the more you travel this way, the better it would get. No. No, not even a little bit. The more you travel this way, the worse it gets. Ozma take me if I ever do this again!" he swore fervently.

The rest of his group laughed a bit as he intended then slowly got up and organized. Warned ahead of time by the Lord, they wore all of their supplies strapped tightly to their bodies, binding even weapons and clothes until they were almost not recognizable under the leather straps. The overall effect was of a bunch of stiff brown leather turtles with human faces. Haslo snorted in amusement as he looked them all over, which started the rest of the team on a round of jokes and one-up-man-ship as they surveyed the immediate area.

Alain ignored the joking around but started issuing orders once he established where they were. "Burke, set up camp over by that rise. Just next to it there's a ditch – supposedly – where no one ever really seems to go. We hope. The ditch is for us and let us pray there's no freak rains while we're here. Kirsten, Redmond, you're with Burke. Haslo, you're with me." He dug around in his pack for the special supplies he requested and pulled out clothes. He tossed Haslo a set of Other Side clothing, or at least the nearest approximation to be found in the OZ. "Put these on." He quickly stripped his own uniform and put on the strange clothes as well. There were thin black pants, a loose solid white shirt and a button-down over shirt of some bright color and pattern indistinguishable in the dark. He ran a comb through his unruly hair, wincing as it pulled through tangles caused by the travel storm. Holding his breath against the possibility of breakage, he also retrieved a mirror wrapped in a layers and layers of soft cotton. To his relief, it was whole and showed completely acceptable appearances.

"I think we're ready," he finally announced. Haslo allowed his normally inscrutable face to show slight puzzlement.

"But where are we going?" he asked, looking around the empty fields.

Alain just smiled. "Why, we're going to the Dark Tower," he said cheerfully, ignoring the strangled yelp of surprise everyone gave off.


End file.
